Page 22 of Blown

“Not really,” Rafe lied casually, grinning at him as he got up from his bench to thrust his half-made goblet back into the furnace for a second.

Jake laughed. “Honesty. I like that.”

“Oh really?” Rafe teased him.

Jake’s expression fell for a moment, sending a spike of guilt through Rafe.

“Sorry,” he said, sitting at his bench and putting his concentration into the goblet he was making. “Too soon.”

“Hey, I’m working on it,” Jake said, selecting a blowpipe so he could start another piece, too. “Thirty years of being a compulsive liar doesn’t disappear overnight.”

“I know. Sorry,” Rafe repeated.

He threw himself into his work, fighting off the guilt over making Jake feel bad and the mixed emotions confirming his date with Steve left him with. Life had never been so complicated. He didn’t like it. In his perfect world, he could go out and have a little fun with Steve, come home and have some more fun with Jake, and no one would feel slighted or jealous, they would all just accept each other.

But even that thought didn’t sit right with Rafe. The idea of being in an open relationship and sleeping with whoever he wanted whenever he wanted felt like it belonged to a younger version of himself. Mid-thirties Rafe wanted more.

His muddled emotions made their way into the goblet he tried to perfect. It wasn’t up to his usual standards, but he knocked it off the pipe and carried it over to the annealer anyhow. It was a bad sign when his emotions started to bring down the quality of his work.

His confidence in his talent took another hit when he walked back to the workbenches and saw the gorgeous vase Jake seemed to be magicking into being.

“That’s astounding,” he said, standing behind Jake and watching his technique for a second.

Jake shrugged as he worked, forming the details of the vase with his jacks. “It’s just something I’ve been thinking of lately. I thought this would be a good time to try out the design. It might fit into what we’re doing with the English countryside stuff.”

“Well, it’s stunning,” Rafe said.

He started to move away to try again with another goblet, but a thought hit him and he had to turn back.

“Why are you trying to immigrate to the UK on a spousal visa?” he asked. “You could apply for the Global Talent visa in a heartbeat without all the fuss and risk of a fake marriage.”

Rafe wasn’t certain, but he thought Jake tensed at the suggestion. He was silent for a few seconds more as he shaped the lip of his vase, then said, “It’s too complicated, too much paperwork.”

“A spousal visa is a lot of paperwork, too,” Rafe pointed out. “And we’ll have to prove to someone that we married for legitimate reasons, I’m sure.”

“We can convince them,” Jake said, peeking up at him with a saucy look.

Rafe definitely wasn’t immune to the heat behind that look, but he was still puzzled by a few things.

“For a Global Talent visa, all you need is proof that you’re at the top of your craft, which you are,” he said. “And you could secure those three letters of recommendation that you need from recognized leaders in this field like snapping your fingers. You know everyone.”

Jake shrugged again. “Are you saying you don’t want to marry me? I’ll make it worth your while.”

He grinned up at Rafe again and bit his lip this time.

Rafe smiled back, his cock taking notice of the flirty gesture. It had definitely been too long since he’d gotten laid.

He went back to sorting blowpipes and making sure everything was where it needed to be, since the faire would close in about an hour. He couldn’t shake the pulse of desire that filled him just knowing Jake was in the booth with him.

“You’re all flushed and sweaty, and you haven’t been anywhere near the furnace,” Jake said in a low purr as he brought his vase over to the annealer, where Rafe stood. “What’s up with that?”

“Nothing’s up with that,” Rafe lied, holding the door open so Jake could deposit his vase to cool. “Looks like we’re done for the day,” he added, avoiding Jake’s hungry look. “The annealer is packed.”

“I can think of something else that should be packed,” Jake said once the door was shut and they stepped to the side.

Rafe grinned and shook his head. “We don’t have an audience anymore. You don’t have to flirt with me now.”

“What if I want to flirt with you?” Jake asked, pulling off his gloves and wiping the sweat from his face on the arm of his shirt. He tossed the gloves and his goggles aside and moved right up against Rafe, smelling like a dream. “I like flirting with you.”

---